Das Tier In Mir: Working Title
by Priestess Moriia
Summary: Gwendolyn Patterson was abducted just before the school year began and was given a potion. Now she is changing and must go to Professor Snape to find the antidote. There may not be one. This takes place in Harry's 3rd year. Features twisted!Remus. Darkfic


**Author Notes:** My chapters may be short, but I cut them where it makes sense to me. I plan on there being a lot of chapters; don't worry! Thanks to my best friend Stella, for beta-ing. Any mistakes are my own fault for not remember what she told me to change. If anyone has a better idea for a title, please put it in a review. And finally, the disclaimer:

The only parts of this story that belong to me are Gwen and the plot. I'm not making any money off of this. Please don't sue!

Enjoy!

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Gwen bolted upright in her bed, breathing hard and sweating. It took a few moments for her to realize where she was, and she exhaled rather loudly in relief to find herself in her own bed at school. She winced, hoping that she hadn't disturbed her roommates. The sounds of steady breathing interrupted with a snuffle or mumble here and there told her she had not. She swallowed several times; her mouth was incredibly dry and had become increasingly so in the past month. Careful not to make any noise, Gwen slipped slowly out of bed and tiptoed to the lavatory. Once there, she held back her hair with one hand, turned on the tap with the other, and leaned to sip from the cool stream of water. The dryness in her mouth began to recede, and she pulled away a bit so that she could splash some of the water onto her face. She stood straight and stared at her reflection, sighing. She had been having The Dreams again.

The Dreams, as she called them, had begun just over a month ago. She forced her thoughts away from what else had happened just over a month ago. The Dreams were never lucid, never tangible. There were no images in The Dreams. There were only sensations and...urges. They were unlike any dreams Gwendolyn Patterson had ever dreamt before. They disturbed her to a great extent. The sensations and urges did not seem to be hers, yet on a sickening and horrifying level, she knew that they were. They were primal, animalistic urges that made her feel hungry and angry at the same time. After The Dreams had started, the fatigue, restlessness, and dry mouth had followed. Then there was the change in diet. She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but her mother had definitely noticed when Gwen had begun to request steak, chops, and bacon at every meal, all _very _rare. Neither of them could come up with an explanation, and as Mrs. Patterson wasn't the type of mother to worry too much, she had just given her daughter what she wanted. Unfortunately, the house elves at Hogwarts did not cater to such strange tastes. At least, she didn't think that they did. She hadn't actually asked for nearly raw meat for fear of getting strange reactions from her friends.

Ah, her friends. That was something else to think about. Her roommates, and really her house mates in general had begun to notice something off about Gwen. They noticed her tiredness and lack of interest and asked her frequently if she was ill. As she slipped back into bed, she glanced around the room at the sleeping girls and sighed. She knew she was pushing them away, and she hated it, but didn't know what to do. She couldn't talk about what had happened before school started and she couldn't tell them what was going on now. Hell, _she _didn't even know what was going on now.

_But it's getting worse, _the reasonable part of her brain told her. _And you know it's connected to the potion they gave you last-_

"No," she whispered to herself firmly. "I'm not thinking about that now." This had become her mantra. She glanced at the calendar on the wall, noticing in the back of her mind the little filled in circle in the bottom right-hand corner of the date for Monday. Trying to push away the nagging feeling that she needed to get help soon, she pulled the covers over her head.

_Potion! _That reasonable, yet annoying part of her mind yelled at her. Gwen scowled and rolled over onto her stomach.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll go talk to Professor Snape, _She thought to herself before falling back to sleep.

* * *

Gwen dragged herself into the Great Hall for lunch the next afternoon. She never, _ever _slept in this late, even on Saturdays, but her dreams had caused her to wake up several more times in the night. As a result, she had fitfully slept until half past eleven, and had awoken feeling worse than when she had gotten into bed in the first place. She thanked the stars that she hadn't done so during the school week. Lunch today was fish and chips, much to her dismay. Gwen could hardly stomach anything that wasn't red meat this days, which made her sad. Fish and chips, especially from Hogwarts—no offense to her mum—used to be her absolute favorite. After picking at her lunch for about 20 minutes and forcing a few bites down, she slammed down her fork in frustration and stalked out of the Hall. She couldn't, wouldn't do this anymore. She needed help. She needed to know what (here she bit her lip and forced herself past her mental barrier) that potion was turning her into.

She was as good as one hundred percent sure that the potion was causing this. There was nothing else she could think of. Professor Snape, being the Potions Master at Hogwarts, seemed to be the person she should go to if she wanted to figure this out. She was quite sure that he wouldn't want to help her, however. Professor Snape was a cold, cruel man who did not seem to care about anyone but himself and his Slytherins. He would probably brush her off and send her to Madame Pomfrey, who likely would have no idea what was going on. She wasn't ill; she had been given a strange potion. At least he probably would not care to hear the whole story of the night she was given the potion. Gwen hardly wanted to go into all of _that_ with _him_. She wouldn't worry about that, though. Her biggest worry was that he would refuse to help her personally, or that if he did, he would feel the need to bring in the Headmaster. The fewer people that knew, the better. She really hoped he would see fit to help her, despite the fact that she was a Ravenclaw. He was at least indifferent to most of them, and even a bit civil to the ones that did well in his class. Gwen wasn't amazing at Potions; she had only slightly above average marks (her worst class). Still, she did better than some of her house mates.

As she made her way through the dungeons, she passed several Slytherins, all of whom either sneered at her or gave her a polite nod. She hoped fervently that she came upon one she knew better, because she really needed to ask where she could find the professor. After a bit of wandering around (she really needed to learn the layout of the dungeons better) luck had her come across a fellow sixth year that she talked to in classes sometimes. Annette Stewart looked rather surprised to see her.

"Gwendolyn! What are you doing down here?" The question wasn't mean or accusatory, though Annette did seem a bit uncomfortable. All the same, she smiled politely and Gwen.

"Hi, Annette. I was wondering; is Professor Snape holding office hours right now?"

"No, he doesn't hold office hours on Saturdays anymore. Did you need help on the essay he set Friday? I'm surprised you haven't finished it yet, Ravenclaw," Annette often teased her this way, but it was good natured. She loved to tease Gwen about being better in Potions than she. Gwen smiled.

"I have, Annie," Annette _hated _being called that. She was hoping to distract her from the lie she was about to tell. "I was asked to deliver a message to the professor. Do you mind showing me his quarters?" Annette was still scowling a bit at the use of the hated nickname, but her voice sounded warm. She never really got angry with Gwen.

"Of course, _Gwendolyn_. Right this way," Annette smirked and began walking. "You've been looking rather peaky lately, Gwendolyn. Have you been ill?" Gwen sighed softly. Please, not _that_ question again.

"No, I'm fine, Annette," She elbowed her in the ribs a bit and added, "Thanks a lot for saying a look peaky!" Annette smirked then.

"Well, you _are _looking rather pale, dear. Perhaps you should try a tanning potion." They stopped at a dark, lacquered wooden door. "Here we are then," said Annette. "See you." She began to walk off.

"Thanks, Annette. See you." Annette glance over shoulder and shrugged before turning the corner. Gwen turned to face the door. Suddenly she felt very nervous. Heart pounding, she raised her hand and knocked briskly on the door. Taking a deep breath, she waited.

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**Author Notes: **Next chapter: Gwen discovers just what this potion is doing to her, and discovers something else very shocking. Please review!


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